


The only thing that matters

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges somewhere around 4x1, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Shunned by his father and sister, Jaime visits Brienne late one night to have a friendly conversation with her. What it leads to is something entirely different.





	The only thing that matters

Two days had gone by since she’d entered King’s Landing, and the only progress she’d made so far was getting to know that Sansa Stark was now Sansa Lannister, this unexpected development complicating the execution of her plan. Lying in bed and plagued by sleeplessness for the third night in a row, she racked her brain for alternatives to make some success out of her trip South, to find a way to get the girl back to whatever remained of her family.

But every time she brought Sansa into her head, someone else ended up making his presence felt in there, invading her dreams, her consciousness and subconscious, nudging aside everything else; someone she’d soon bid goodbye to and never cross paths with again, someone she had to compel her mind to avoid, someone who, despite several desperate attempts, simply refused to vacate her mind, and more recently to her dismay, her heart.

Someone who had become so important a part of her, that it now filled her with dread when she tried to picture how life without him would turn out to be.

_ He loves Cersei, _ she kept repeating, shutting her eyes tightly as if that might ward off visions of his handsome face, _and I have a destiny to fulfil. He can never be mine, nor can I ever belong to him. _

He had not met her even once, their paths branching out into different directions as soon as they’d found themselves inside the castle and in the midst of his family. _ Why will he come to see me, _ she tried to reason with her troubled mind, _ he’s too full of his sister, why would he bother about what I think or how I feel? _ While he’d done everything in his power to ensure she’d been well taken care of - providing her with decent chambers, a new set of clothes that fit her and everything else she needed, never once had they run into each other, and not even a single glimpse she’d had of him. 

_ He’s never going to want to see me again, the ugly wench that I am-- _

A loud thump on the door broke into the silence and her eyes shot open, the sudden disturbance in the dead of the night startling her. Wondering who could possibly be seeking her out, she answered the door, her jaw dropping when she saw who her midnight visitor was.

“Ser Jaime,” she greeted him, not knowing what else to say or how else to react.

“I came to see you, wench,” he announced his intent, elbowing her out of the way and pushing past her with no inclination to seek her consent.

“At this hour?” she wondered, fearing the gossip that might erupt if anyone had spotted him entering her chambers. Apprehensive of the consequences of such a misfortune befalling them, she immediately slammed the door shut and followed him inside. 

The lone candle flickered in the mild breeze, bathing his face in its glow when he slumped into her bed. Only now did she notice the true beauty he was renowned for, the _him _that had been hidden under a cover of dirt, grime and blood for months, the _him, _she realized with a dull ache in her chest, that was no one but Cersei’s.

“I’m worthless,” he mumbled without giving her a background, his tone dejected and his face deflated as he stared at his hands.

“You’re not,” she consoled him, perching by his side.

His emerald eyes sprang to life when they sought hers for comfort. “My sister thinks the best part of me is dead. Just like my hand,” he told her, the bitterness in his voice indicating how much Cersei's behaviour had shattered him.

Her heart went out to him, and all she wanted to do was hold him tightly and comfort him, to tell him that he deserved better. “I beg to differ,” she said, resorting to a short diplomatic answer than an emotional one.

“You do?” He shuffled closer, the bare patch of bronze skin on his chest distracting her, his well-defined frame and perfect arms impeding her brain and filling her with lustful thoughts she had, until a few days back, associated only with Renly.

“There’s honour in you,” she continued to motivate him, ignoring the agitation simmering inside her, “I’ve seen it myself--”

“Honour, unfortunately, is of significance only to you and me, Brienne,” he lamented, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that his hand had crept up to hers, their fingers just shy of contact. “My father wants me to give up the Kingsguard, marry a suitable woman and succeed him as the head of my house.”

“What is it that you desire?” she found herself asking, knowing full well what to expect in response.

His fingers brushed against hers, and she held back a gasp, careful to contain the mounting distress within her. “I don’t know,” came his surprising response, his deep throaty voice setting off an unexpected wave of shock within her.

“What about your sister?” she brought herself to speak with immense difficulty, “don’t you want to be with her--”

Words betrayed her, and so did her voice when his palm enclosed her hand, the circular patterns that his thumb began tracing on her skin knocking the air out of her lungs. All she could do was to allow herself to be arrested by his effortlessly seductive gaze. “Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?” he murmured, his eyes piercing through the depths of hers.

From a man who’d done nothing but criticise her every single minute they’d spent with each other, this was a highly uncharacteristic comment, or perhaps, she doubted, another dose of the famous sarcasm she’d always borne the brunt of. “All you’ve ever told me is that I’m ugly,” she cautiously reminded him, recalling their days together, “and so has everyone else--”

A jerk of his head was all it took, everything that came next happening in the blink of an eye. Before she could seek sense in what was going on, his hand was on her neck and his mouth on hers, and he began kissing her with an ardour that left her breathless, not letting her think, not letting her come to terms with his maddening display of passion. He sucked and nibbled her lips with abandon, within seconds, taking the liberty to invade her mouth with his tongue, and all she could do was relent and surrender, her inhibitions be damned. When he pushed harder, his tongue reaching out to the farthest corners of her mouth, she found herself afloat on clouds miles above her, away from here, away from the problems and challenges that awaited her, far off in a different world, a wonderful life where none but the two of them existed. She twitched when his fingers slid up her neck, and shivered when his thumb pressed into the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear, a moan escaping her lips at the sudden surge in the agony between her legs. He stepped up the pressure, and up went her ache, her groin and the rest of her bursting into flames. He pulled back for a second, but before she could gather herself, he took to plundering her mouth again, the little bites he tortured her lips with leaving her shaking helplessly when it was over. 

“Fuck what everyone else thinks about you,” he said, every word he spoke infused with want, “and fuck what I told you months ago. I’ve been an idiot, Brienne.” 

His hand slid down her neck, coming to rest on her chest, his fingers tangling with her laces, making an unsuccessful attempt to rip them open. “What are you doing?” she whispered, nervousness gripping her as she drew in her stomach.

Lust now driven away, there came a shadow of uncertainty and regret in his eyes, and he dropped his hand at once. “I--I’m sorry, my lady, I should never have--” he stammered. “I should go.”

He rose to take leave of her, but she followed suit, placing a firm hand on his wrist to stop him. “Don’t,” she said, her voice shaking at the decision she’d made and the unnatural courage she had to gather to announce it to him.

The hunger slowly returning to them, his eyes were back on hers, shining like wildfire. Not in a state to say anything more, she unclasped his golden hand and took it off. “Cersei can’t stand the sight of my stump,” he said, glancing down at his missing limb with shame and disgust as she tossed the golden abomination on the bed.

She ran a thumb over his stump, caressing it fondly. “I’m not your sister,” she said, kissing the scar that Qyburn had left behind. 

His eyes moist, he looked at her for a while. “I--” he tried to say something, but faltered, his voice cracking with emotion.

She began unlacing his shirt, taking it off him without much effort, the sight of his enticing chest, the perfect smattering of hair that glistened with sweat knocking her breath away. “This scar,” she wondered aloud, unable to resist running her fingers along the nasty remnant of a wound just below his collarbone, “when--”

“--gifted by Locke,” he said hoarsely, placing his hand over hers.

“When he tortured you,” she regretfully supplied, remembering what he’d sacrificed to safeguard her honour, “because of me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, wench,” he said, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I don’t.”

“But--”

“I’ll never regret it, Brienne,” he passionately cut in, “I’d do it all again for you.” 

“I hope it never comes to that again,” she said with an affectionate smile, her fingers following the trickle of hair that ran down his torso. His chest heaving in response to her delicate assault, every breath he took seemed to be a laborious effort, his muscles tightening under her touch as she went further, snaking down his ribs, taking in every bit of skin she travelled through. She froze when she noticed the rapidly swelling bulge in his pants, her fingers twitching madly for a moment before coming to rest on his navel. Her core soaked with her arousal and her heart fluttering wildly in anticipation of what was to come, she began working on his trousers, her hands shaking like never before. When she managed to free him from the confinement of his clothes, her mouth fell open when she caught sight of the sheer magnificence of his glorious length, biting back a moan when she pictured what he’d feel like fully sheathed within her. 

Her mind dissolving into raptures of fantasy, she was unable to resist stroking him, to see what he felt like, for never before had she seen a man like this, in such a splendid state of arousal. All she did was lay one fingertip on his shaft, but the effect it had on him was massive. With an involuntary shudder, he grabbed her by her shirt. Drawing her closer with an aggression she’d never seen in him before, he broke into a desperate and clumsy one-handed attempt to undress her.

“I’ll--” she was about to volunteer, but frustration getting the better of him, he ripped her shirt open and pushed it down her shoulders, hungrily palming her breast as soon as he could lay his hand on it. “Oh, my,” she gasped softly when he plucked at her nipple, her knees buckling under the attack he was subjecting her to. “Ser Jai--” She meant to cry out his name, but his mouth caught hers in a full-blown wet kiss, and all she could do was shut her eyes and throw her arms around his neck, clinging to him whilst succumbing to the sweet torture he was putting her through.

“I now know what I want,” he exhaled into her mouth, “what I’ve wanted for a long time.” He made for her waist, fumbling with her trousers in a bid to tear them off.

“Let me,” she stopped him with a light tap on his hand, unwilling to let him ruin another of her garments. He groaned in objection, but relented when she began taking her pants off, his eyes widening with desire when he eyed the soaked mound between her legs.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed, slipping a finger into her, and she let out a helpless sigh, unable to contain the passion within her. “You want me as much as I’ve yearned for you, wench,” he said hoarsely, locking her in a fiery gaze. Wasting no more time, he pushed her on the bed and flung himself on top of her, his lips pressing hard into hers whilst his fingers took to exploring the most intimate part of her. He dug deeper into her throbbing core, and she was left fighting for breath, the head of his erection pulsating against her thigh making matters worse for her. 

“Oh, Jaime,” she moaned, when he’d let go of her mouth to breathe, his intrusive fingers setting up one tremor after another inside her.

“So it’s Jaime now,” he was prompt to note, his tongue leaving a wet line down her neck, “not _ Ser Jaime, _is it?” 

“Y--” _ yes, _she had intended to say, but allowing her no time nor the opportunity to answer, he silenced her with his mouth, and before she could realize it, his deft fingers had withdrawn their onslaught between her legs and made themselves at home on her breast, pinching and prodding her nipple, leaving her grabbing fistfuls of the bedspread in her agony.

_Stop tormenting me, _she wanted to tell him, but what ensued was a storm she wasn't yet ready for. Giving her no warning nor even a moment to prepare herself, he slid into her, his throbbing cock worming its way inside her. Caught unawares, she clung to him, her fingers clawing around his shoulders and deep into his back. Tender, he was, for he knew she was a virgin, easing himself into her wet passage, one little bit at a time, taking care not to hurt her. He placed kiss after soft kiss on her lips as he buried himself into her slowly but steadily, whispering sweet reassurances into her mouth to drive away her discomfort. His fingers making sure to indulge one nipple after another, he cuddled and caressed first one breast, and then the other, his hand wandering wherever he could reach, leaving no stone unturned to pleasure every part of her. The pain, as her Septa had warned, came when he ripped through her maidenhead, but soon it was gone, leaving behind a heady intoxication of undiluted bliss.

She felt full. She felt complete. She felt like a woman who was finally one with the man she loved.

_ I love him. _

He pulled away, only to plunge into her again, hitting her where it mattered the most, his hips slamming into hers, the sensation blinding the rest of the fucking world out of existence.

_ I love him. _

His thighs grinding against hers, the reality struck her again, and it struck her hard, knocking down every restraint she’d built around herself, every resolve to come to terms with his impending absence in her life destroyed to pieces. 

_ I love him. _

With every move, they took a step closer to becoming one, his body with hers every time he rammed into her, his breath with hers every time he kissed her, his sweat dissolving into hers every time his skin rubbed against hers.

_ I love him. _

He grunted, he groaned, he sighed and he growled, his furious pounding taking her to places she’d never been before, showing her the stars and the moon, showing her that she too was entitled to pleasure and happiness.

_ I love him. _

With a gasp and a moan, her arms around his neck and a loud cry of his name, she went limp under him once the euphoria had died down, once she’d returned to firm ground, the tempest that had passed making her wonder if this was just a dream. 

_ I love him. _

With a guttural roar and her name on his lips, he came down on her one last time. He came within her, his violently shuddering body coming to rest on her, holding her as if she’d always been meant to be wrapped around him. 

_ I love him. _

So desperate she was, to tell him, to pour her heart out, to let her feelings flow, but before she could speak, he kissed her tenderly, his lips settling on hers as if they’d always belonged there.

“Jaime--”

“I love you, Brienne,” he said before she could go on, his sweaty hand cupping her cheek.

“What did you just--” she began, worried if she’d heard him right, worried that her brain might be imagining things.

“I love you,” he said again, smothering her with another kiss.

His words too good to be true, she found it difficult for what he'd said to sink in. What if this was merely the effect of a passionate moment? What if he regretted this when he saw Cersei again. “But your sister--”

“I love _ you _, Brienne,” he repeated, gently nibbling on her lip.

“But your father, your family,” she asked, worried if Tywin Lannister would ever approve of someone like her for his son, “what if--”

“I love you,” he firmly asserted, continuing to kiss her as he spoke. “That’s the only thing that matters. Fuck everything else.”

So this wasn’t a dream after all. “I love you too, Jaime,” she said it at last, giving up her internal struggle and giving in, smiling into his lips as their hearts had finally become one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing fluff over and over again, but I regret nothing :)  
Thank you for reading and enjoy!


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